


A Struggle to Belong

by mktprds



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Gen, M/M, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Post-Time Skip, Sakusa Kiyoomi-centric, There's SakuAtsu if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mktprds/pseuds/mktprds
Summary: Kiyoomi struggles to feel a sense of normalcy today, but he's not alone.
Relationships: MSBY Black Jackals & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 147





	A Struggle to Belong

**Author's Note:**

> I've been struggling more than usual with my own OCD lately, so I projected onto Sakusa (oopsies). I didn't wanna just focus on his mysophobia, though, it feels like the fandom makes that trait very prominent. My portrayal still may not be the best because I've never written for Sakusa before, and OCD is really complex, so I couldn't fit every detail in that I wanted to.

Today is not a good day, Kiyoomi thinks.

His obsessive thoughts and compulsions are painfully apparent, and he can't control it. After changing into his clothes for practice, he paces the locker room.

_One, two, three, four, five steps. One, two, three, four, five steps._

Kiyoomi knows that, rationally, giving into his compulsions won't help him at all. In fact, these repetitive behaviors only relieve his mind for a little while before he feels uneasy again. But the patterns, he thinks, the patterns please him and he can't stop himself from giving into them.

Of course everyone else on the MSBY team has noticed Kiyoomi's anxiousness today. They understand that it happens. Some days are worse than others, but the best they can do is grant Kiyoomi some normalcy by acting like themselves. So. Koutarou chatters away with Shouyou, and they have almost everyone else on the team naturally gravitating toward them with their high energy.

Atsumu spares glances to Kiyoomi, who is still pacing. He almost walks over so he can ask if he's okay, but their coach calls them out for practice. He doesn't miss the way Kiyoomi visibly relaxes a little; the black haired man feels some relief. Usually, getting out on the court distracts him from his thoughts; he has no time to think when adrenaline runs through his veins as he receives Koutarou's spikes or focuses on hitting the ball with just the right amount of force.

That's how it _usually_ is.

Today keeps getting worse and worse, Kiyoomi thinks.

He feels unbalanced when he spikes the ball with his right hand and doesn't feel an equal amount of impact on his left hand. His heart beats unbearably fast, and he can’t focus on anything else. Kiyoomi dribbles the ball against the floor with his left hand until he feels equilibrium again. Then, he feels like he can keep playing, but he notices that all of these personal rituals are slowing him down.

His coach may understand, and so may his teammates, but Kiyoomi feels so out of place. He realizes that everyone else is practicing just fine; they're all playing just as wonderfully as they do when they have a game. And then Atsumu glances over, catching his attention for a moment, Kiyoomi turns and goes back to his spiking drills. He doesn't want anyone to acknowledge that he is struggling.

If his visible compulsions alone aren't enough to make him feel out of place, the intrusive thoughts that accompany them definitely make him feel like he doesn't belong.

Morbid, terrifying, and humiliating thoughts come to mind. Every single one urges him to comply with another compulsion or else he gets stuck thinking, and thinking, and thinking about each ideation, unable to forget about them. Every single one of these thoughts makes his stomach twist. Sometimes he feels disgusted with his mind, shocked that he can come up with such ideas.

Realistically, he knows he can't control it, but he convinces himself that something is wrong with him, that it's his fault. It's a never-ending cycle. He gives into compulsory urges just to drive these scenarios away. He only wants peace of mind.

It's all so difficult, he thinks.

It's difficult to understand, difficult to protest against compulsions, difficult to ignore intrusive or obsessive thoughts; it's all so, very difficult.

Kiyoomi manages to make it through practice, but he has a hard time changing and getting ready to leave. There's a specific order of steps he must take in order to get ready to leave, his mind convinces him. And every time he messes up, he gets incredibly frustrated. It's so unimportant, he knows that menial things like the order in which he changes his clothes shouldn't matter. Kiyoomi knows that, yet his mind is stuck.

He can't leave unless he does _this_ and _that_. By the time he feels like it's okay to go, he slings his gym bag over his shoulder and turns, finding that Atsumu is still in the locker room with him. He is sitting by the exit door, idly scrolling through something on his phone.

"Miya?" Kiyoomi calls his attention. The blonde setter looks up immediately with a quirked eyebrow.

"What are you still doing here?"

Atsumu shrugs when he replies with an echo of Kiyoomi's question: "What're _you_ still doing here?"

Without an answer that he feels comfortable sharing, the outside hitter simply glares a burning hole into his setter.

"Alright, alright," Atsumu starts, "I need a ride home, I didn't drive here on my own." He shrugs again.

Kiyoomi squints, judging the truth in the other man's words. That blonde is up to something, he thinks. Atsumu can easily get home through other means, in fact, he usually whines to Kiyoomi about how unusually chaotic the black haired man tends to drive. Because he's the kind of person that causes the tires to squeal when he takes a turn. He's the kind of person that makes the seat belts lock up when he brakes. It's unusual to everyone else, it doesn't fit his careful personality, but Atsumu knows very well that it's true: Kiyoomi is a terrifying driver.

So, thinking about how much Atsumu openly claims to fear how he drives, Kiyoomi believes Atsumu might be trying something. Regardless, the slightly taller male consents to driving the blonde man home. He doesn't mind the company, but he won't admit that out loud.

In the car, the setter is quite a chatterbox. Kiyoomi pretends to be annoyed, but sometimes a small smile finds its way onto his lips when Atsumu says something particularly clever or amusing. At some point, the shorter man decides to mess with the radio. He switches channels, searching for a good music station with determination. When he finds one he likes, he turns it up loud.

At a stop somewhere on the way to Atsumu's home, Kiyoomi finds himself tapping different drum patterns onto the steering wheel. There are many intrusions in his mind telling him all the ways this driving trip could go wrong. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers soothes the surface-level of his anxiety, he notices, but it still feels abnormal. Kiyoomi can't help but think about how normal people don't feel like they have to do this. He sighs in frustration, but continues driving when the traffic light turns green.

While Atsumu may not seem thoughtful, especially when outsiders look at his relationship to Kiyoomi, he is actually very considerate. As another tune plays on the radio, Atsumu mirrors Kiyoomi's finger drumming movements. He gets carried away easily and ends up dramatically drumming along to the song, but it takes Kiyoomi's mind off of things. He allows a smile to adorn his face, not bothering to hide it from the other male like he usually does.

By the time they make it to Atsumu's house, it's dark outside. The setter looks to his teammate, and Kiyoomi feels like he can read his mind.

"Wanna stay over tonight? It's already pretty late, and I don't mind havin' company for dinner." Atsumu insists. There is a kind expression on his face when he asks, and Kiyoomi doesn't really feel like driving all the way to his house right now anyways.

"Sure." He replies simply.

And as they walk up the driveway of Miya Atsumu's over-the-top fancy property, Kiyoomi is still smiling. He's grateful to have people like this in his life. Maybe Atsumu, particularly, isn't just a teammate or normal friend, but Kiyoomi thinks he's grateful for _all_ of the people in his life that give him a sense of normalcy and belonging like this.


End file.
